Chapter 473

In the end, Malik agreed to Evenson’s request.

For one thing, they would still need Umbrella’s help when the time came to locate the Hive. More importantly, Umbrella had just forgiven him a debt worth twenty billion dollars. Malik could hardly accept such a favor and then turn around and reject a relatively minor request without even pretending to have manners.

But there was another reason.

Whenever Evenson spoke to him, Malik had noticed something subtle in his eyes.

Contempt.

Not outright hostility. Not even dislike.

Just the faint, effortless disdain of someone who regarded Malik as fundamentally beneath him.

And strangely enough, that convinced Malik that Umbrella truly had no interest in ruling the world.

Why would they?

Because Umbrella wasn’t aiming for the throne.

They intended to become gods.

No.

Something beyond gods.

They wanted to become the ones who created gods.

The fathers of a new pantheon.

Malik smiled bitterly at the thought.

If Umbrella genuinely viewed itself that way, then someone like him, a man still struggling within the machinery of worldly power, was nothing more than a mortal.

Even if Malik eventually became king of the entire world, he would probably amount to little more than a gardener tending Umbrella’s divine nursery.

And if they didn’t want the throne, they wouldn’t compete with him for it.

Being looked down upon should have offended him.

It didn’t.

Malik had long since outgrown pointless contests of pride. He cared about tangible things: power, influence, and profit.

Besides, Evenson’s description of the future was difficult to dismiss.

The path to godhood.

Human Completion.

A chance for humanity to transcend its current limitations and become something divine.

Who wouldn’t be tempted by that?

"Then I think we’re settled." Evenson fought down the stab of pain in his conscience as he wrote a bank account number on a small note. "You can transfer the initial payment to this account."

The account belonged to the Eredar twins.

Malik glanced at the number, then pocketed the note.

"And where are we supposed to send the processing facility?"

His tone made the unspoken complaint obvious.

You can’t just tell us where to send the money. We need to know where we’re sending the equipment, too.

"Evangeline Corporation," Evenson said. "You know the place, don’t you?"

"Evangeline Corporation?"

Malik’s expression changed.

Then he understood.

"General Ross..."

He knew the company. It had only been registered recently, but it already had remarkably deep connections to Thaddeus Ross, the former military general who had recently become one of the rising stars of American politics.

Through several channels, Malik had learned that Ross’s connections had helped the company get registered in the first place. The corporation’s current office building had also supposedly been acquired from the military through Ross’s influence.

And shortly after Ross entered politics, he suddenly received a substantial amount of financial backing.

Money that, according to Malik’s information, had come from Evangeline Corporation.

If Evangeline Corporation was actually a cover identity for Umbrella, or perhaps one of its branches, then...

Was Ross an Umbrella operative?

The more Malik thought about it, the more plausible the theory became.

Ross had always been obsessed with human enhancement technology. He had helped create the Hulk.

Then there was the Abomination.

His history was practically a catalog of reckless biological experimentation.

Perhaps he really was one of Umbrella’s people.

Evenson, however, answered with complete indifference.

"Isn’t it fashionable for companies to hire celebrities as spokespeople these days? I thought Ross would be a perfect fit."

"I see."

Malik nodded.

He didn’t believe a word of it.

Ross’s past actions were enough to have destroyed his career permanently. Under normal circumstances, Malik suspected the man could have ended up facing execution for what he’d done.

The only reason Ross had escaped serious consequences was that multiple parties had weighed the political and military ramifications and ultimately dealt with the matter internally.

But among those who knew what had really happened, Ross’s reputation had once been absolutely toxic.

Now?

He was a rising political star.

A man with seemingly limitless momentum.

If some organization with extraordinary reach wasn’t secretly working behind the scenes to rebuild his career, then the only other explanation Malik could imagine was that Ross had somehow been reincarnated with a magical political system.

"That was a remarkably straightforward transaction."

Evenson suddenly clapped his hands, drawing the attention of Malik and Stephanie.

"Before we officially conclude our pleasant little deal, though, there’s one small but necessary step."

He smiled.

"We need to sign a contract."

Malik and Stephanie exchanged suspicious looks.

"Is that really necessary?"

Their hesitation was understandable.

The agreement they’d just negotiated was hardly something either side wanted recorded on paper. And Malik couldn’t think of a single country’s contract law that would provide meaningful protection for a deal like this.

"Call it a personal habit."

Evenson reached inside his coat and produced a printed sheet of paper.

A handful of clauses were scattered across the page.

He handed it to Malik.

Malik glanced at the heading and immediately rolled his eyes.

Of course.

Evenson hadn’t been planning this for five minutes.

The contract was already addressed to him.

Still, Malik carefully read through the clauses.

Nothing seemed particularly unreasonable.

Most of them concerned confidentiality.

Neither party could disclose the existence or details of this transaction with Umbrella without authorization. Neither could reveal the source of the Death Knights’ creation.

That sort of thing.

"Necessary precautions," Evenson said with a shrug.

"We’ve dealt with that old bastard Whitehall several times. The experience was terrible. He not only exposed our company’s existence, but also used our name to do things we never authorized."

Evenson shook his head.

"Very irritating, as you can imagine."

"These new organizations with no history have no understanding of honor."

Malik’s expression became solemn.

"They’ll do anything to achieve their goals. But you have nothing to worry about. Families with a long history like ours place great value on reputation and credibility."

He delivered the statement with such solemn conviction that anyone listening might have mistaken him for a man who actually believed every word.

Malik even produced a fountain pen and prepared to sign.

"Ah, ah, ah."

Just before the pen touched the paper, Evenson raised his right index finger and wagged it at him.

"Mr. Malik, before you officially sign, I think there’s something you should know."

Malik looked up, confused.

"You remember the details of my last mission, don’t you?"

Of course he did.

Malik had specifically ordered people to investigate it.

The Serpent of Eden, N’Hash.

Ghost Rider.

The Seven Lords of Hell.

Mephisto.

The moment that last name crossed Malik’s mind, his expression changed.

His eyes slowly returned to the contract.

This time, he looked at it very differently.

"I’ve dealt with Mephisto more than once," Evenson said casually. "You could even say we have a little history."

He tapped the contract with one finger.

"So I picked up a few tricks from him."

His smile widened.

"Things like... devil’s contracts."

Malik’s face tightened.

"So, Mr. Malik, I should probably warn you."

Evenson’s finger tapped the paper again.

"Once you sign this, breaking the contract isn’t an option."

"A devil’s contract..."

Malik stared at the ordinary sheet of paper.

Stephanie looked equally baffled.

"Written on printer paper?"

She leaned closer, studying the faded text.

"And the printer was practically out of ink when this was printed. Half the letters aren’t even visible..."

"The material is irrelevant."

Evenson was beginning to look genuinely offended.

"The paper is only the vessel. What matters is the magic written into the contract."

He pointed indignantly at the page.

"It doesn’t matter whether it’s printed on paper. I could write the contract in lipstick on a pair of underwear and it would still be binding!"

Malik stared at him.

Stephanie stared at him.

Evenson slowly lowered his hand.

"...Don’t look at me like that. It’s a perfectly valid magical principle."